Focus: A Kaitou Kid Monologue
D'you know why I wear a monocle?
It's kind of hard to explain, even to myself sometimes. 'Course, other times I can just make jokes about how debonair it makes me look and all that, but if I'm being honest with myself…
…really, really honest with myself…
…I'd have to say that I don't actually know why. Sounds stupid, doesn't it?
Let me explain how I get ready for a heist:
First off, most of the time I don't put on the outfit at home—I mean, what would be the point? Yeah, there are lots of ways to leave my dad's old workshop that aren't visible to anybody without x-ray vision, but most of 'em involve crawling, climbing and/or lots of footwork through tunnels; dad was devious. I'm really proud of how devious he was. But anyway, no; most of the time I pack up my gear and haul it to a site so I can change either there or nearby, preferably as close as possible to the target. I've changed clothes in several ladies' rooms, in any number of elevator-shafts and stairwells, on tons of rooftops and at least twice while hanging upside down like a bat. Did it three times inside ventilation-shafts, too; dusty places. You know how hard it is to fight off a sneeze while simultaneously putting on your socks?
Oh—and once I changed in Nakamori's office, just for the thrill. I didn't have a heist or anything; I just did it because I wanted to. Me, a masochist? Nahhhh….. Wherever would you get *that* idea?
Before I leave, though, everything gets checked; and I do mean everything, up to and including the civvies I leave the house in. Can't have anything incriminating in them if I have to abandon ship, after all; so I pick up the occasional outfit at a thrift-shop and vacuum the hell out of it before it goes on. Don't want to leave any stray hairs or fibers, after all; and I don't want anybody else's on there either. Then all the equipment gets checked: glider, armaments, cardgun, toolkits, any special little surprises I've prepared for the evening. Maps and personnel lists are looked over, and then everything gets packed up as neatly as possible—and I've found some really interesting ways to carry my gear. Who looks twice at a businessman carrying a couple of suits in plastic laundry-bags? Or the teenager delivering ramen in his after-school job? Or the old woman carrying groceries, complaining to anybody unfortunate enough to be nearby about her bunions?
Where was I? --Oh yeah, the monocle! Sorry; got sidetracked. The old woman outfit was sorta fun.
Wearing my dad's old outfit was …weird at first. Dead man's clothes. Dead man's shoes. Felt like I was trying to turn into the ghost of Hamlet's father-- Um, anyway, it felt strange. Too comfortable in some ways, like they were glad to get worn again, glad to go back into action. The hat (and it's actually 'hats', since Dad must've damn near bought stock in some costumer's company; the boxes on top of a closet-shelf had no less than thirty-two hats in 'em, and there were fifteen full suits when I started. Less now, of course; I'm high-maintenance) was a bit big, but I managed… and 'sides, I use them for storing stuff too. I even stuff the occasional sandwich inside if I'm gonna have to wait around for a bit before beginning a heist.
I'm not stupid, y'know; I'm perfectly well aware that that bit of glass and ivory isn't enough to make a real disguise. What it DOES do is provide both a distraction and a focus-point, like the glasses belonging to a certain half-liter-sized detective that I know… People look at the monocle and at the charm swinging from it; my face is pretty well overshadowed by the hat-brim, and I almost never work in direct light anyway. Hakuba, now, he's managed to train his eye to look past the shadows at *me*, which is not good; but he's pretty sure who I am anyway, so—
So why do I wear that monocle? I could just work up some sort of disguise, but no.
The first time I put it on, it was like—uhhh….. You know how it is when you-- Ahhhhhhh shit. This is gonna be hard to explain.
It isn't just that Dad wore it, or at least that's not the only reason. The first time I put it on, I remember—I got this funny flash of double-vision, not like I was seeing everything twice, but more like I was seeing it through two pairs of eyes. Like one pair was my everyday eyes and the other pair was my—thief's eyes? That's how I think of them: thief's eyes, kaitou's eyes. Eyes that see escape routes automatically, eyes that pick up on the little, forgotten things and turn them to advantage.
If I were superstitious, I'd say it was my Dad that makes me see this way; but I don't dare be superstitious. It's too much of a weakness. Much as I'd like to believe that my father's ghost was with me, guiding me, I can't—'cause I know damn well that if he were, he'd find a way to contact me and let me know he was there. 'Cause it's what *I* would do in his place. Somehow, somehow, somehow—I'd find a way.
I hope he can see me, though; I hope I'm making him proud.
When I put on his stuff and continue what death made him leave off doing, it all gets so clear; I have a purpose past the pain of loss. How many guys my age have that—a real purpose in life? Hell, how many people of ANY age have a goal to focus their lives around, something so edged and sharp that it cuts right through everything else like a blade?
Though… when the goal's finished, I wonder what I'll have left?
Never mind. Not important.
The hat, the suit, the monocle… They put me right. When I'm him, the Kid, I know what I'm doing. I'm not just some messed-up teenager who broods too much about his dad's murder; I'm somebody who has a purpose and a plan and a vision. Otherwise, it's too easy to either get caught up in the fun of the heist… or in the hate. That too. But the monocle—well, it's always there, right on my face, reminding me of why I do what I do.
Dad wore it on his last heist; when I went into his workshop for the first time, it was lying right there next to his hat. I remember: my eyes got all blurred with tears when I saw them. But y'know, when I put on the monocle the first time, everything got very, very clear.
Oh; so that's it.
That's why I wear the monocle: It helps me to see.
Ysabet's Notes: No clue whatsoever. I just got to thinking about the monocle, and, well… you know how these things happen. Just a little meander on my part.